


Never the Exception

by QueenEchidna



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Torture, M/M, basically Lugnut and Blitzwing are really precious and Slipstream is a badass, pre-season 3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-05-02
Updated: 2013-05-02
Packaged: 2017-12-10 05:47:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenEchidna/pseuds/QueenEchidna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Decepticons are hanging onto mere threads of the already limited force of companionship, and with a poorly-stocked medical supply, injuries are taken very seriously. Blitzwing is probably one of the last mechs on the planet Earth that Lugnut chooses to trust, and vice-versa.<br/>Risks are taken and bonds are formed, despite how terribly overused that line sounds. ^-^</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never the Exception

To say that things had gotten bad was the understatement of the solar cycle, Blitzwing mused as a terrible migraine wracked the front of his processor, forcing his advanced thinking to a minimum. In his handicapped state his thoughts lingered on the ever-present remembrance of the Decepticon’s recent, humiliating loss against the Autobot Elite Guard. Paroxysms of throbbing pain shoot through the Triple Changer’s frame continuously, forcing him to shift and move to attempt to accommodate his aching chassis. 

Their Lord Megatron had sustained limited injuries, with many thanks due to his underappreciated follower, Lugnut. The ever-loyal con had taken many blows for his leader, including a particularly damaging stab through his upper chest; a blow dealt by Sentinel Prime’s accursed lance. Blitzwing had been offhandedly worried as he witnessed the injury dealt to his _’friend’_ , and worried the lance had speared the other Decepticon’s spark chamber.

He later learned from Hook that the injury was not fatal and had missed Lugnut’s spark chamber by a mere foot; though it seemed he would be laid up in the makeshift medical bay for a few days until Hook’s medicine and Lugnut’s internal repair healed him, or at least fixed his ruptured energon lines. 

Blitzwing had few immediate injuries of his own so was near to last on the list to get checked out by Hook, so he was stuck tolerating his aching frame, and mild cuts until a later date. He suppressed a hiss as he moved his torso only to draw a sharp pain from the area around his waist; the Triple Changer looked down to the offending area and covered the sizeable gash with his servo, effectively wiping away the energon collecting there. It hurt, of course, but it was nothing Blitzwing could not handle. 

“You’re injured?” 

Blitzwing had not expected anyone to try and communicate with him, let-alone make contact with his raised shoulder armor; he turned haphazardly to meet Starscream’s less-than-stinging gaze. The Seeker’s talons were strangely docile as they were draped over the injured mech’s armor, “Have you not seen Hook? As per my recent knowledge; all injured parties were to be tended to before the routine post-battle checkups.” His voice was sharp and short but there was actually an underlying tone of worry.

“I’m fine, General Starscream.” Blitzwing assured, strategically moving his arm to hide the given severe-ness of the gash in his waist. “I appreciate your concern.” He nodded his thanks and made a move to stand, but the still lingering pain forced him to hesitate as he stood. 

Starscream smirked very matter-of-fact, “I would speak to the contrary.” The slightly taller ‘con handed the Triple Changer a data pad, the reason he was even near the unstable mech in the first place, and took his leave. Blitzwing looked over the information on the data pad, mostly uninterested with the brunt of the report; a particular paragraph about Hook’s obtaining of a new set of advanced surgical tools interested him for about 3 seconds before he gave up and nonchalantly tossed the glowing purple pad onto the nearest surface. 

Perhaps it would have been good to go see Hook, or at least get his daily rations; but Blitzwing was tired, and his corresponding _’personas’_ were restless. With a fair amount of willpower the Triple Changer took his leave from the main common area, headed back towards his personal quarters as to, hopefully, avoid being embarrassed by his other halves. 

_’Aw, vere are ve going? I vanted to go visit Lugnut. He’s all hurt and held-up in the medical ving. I zought ve could-‘_

**’Nein, ve are not visiting that overgrown wrecking ball! I’d sooner polish Megatron’s helmet!’**

_’Oo, I’m pretty sure zhat’s Corporal Sunstorm’s job, but I’m sure he’d let you take a vhack at it! Hahah!_ ’

Blitzwing shook his head and straightened himself out, “ _Halte die Klappe_ , both of you.” He growled lowly as he reached his room. “Lugnut needs to rest.” Punching in the key-code the Triple Changer was glad to see the welcome-ness of their quarters; no matter how much of a clusterfuck the room has become in the past few solar cycles. There were three easily differentiating portions of the spacious area; the general area of his berth and desk were relatively neat, but appear to have been jostled about out of perfect organization. One side of the room was covered in energon, drawn onto the wall in little childish drawings. Another portion held a badly abused equivalent of a punching bag and a few mangled pieces of metal, which were perhaps once sparring bots.

A newfound sense of security allowed Blitzwing to relax and let another one of his personas to take over; unfortunately the youngest of the three was more driven. “Finally, now ve can go see our big buddy.” For the sake of differentiating the three personas, the majority of the Decepticons had taken to referring to this particular face as _’Random’_ ; as per his nature. Each ‘bot learned in-time that Blitzwing was offended, in some manner of the term, when he was pinned-in as the same mech with his Hotheaded and Random personas; he was self-aware and had little to no control over his two compatriots, which kept plenty of room for Blitzwing himself to be embarrassed, despite the obvious self-awareness of each separate persona. 

Random nearly skipped down the long, jagged-rocky hallways of the Decepticon’s adopted base in the mineral-layered mines within the Earth, humming nonchalantly to himself and ignoring the faint resistance of the two other processors he shares a chassis with. A blind corner brought the young Triple Changer faceplate-to-faceplate with none other than Megatron himself, who did not so much as budge when Random bumped into him. The Decepticon tyrant’s optics narrowed, but any malice was gone as he met optics with the Triple Changer’s youngest persona who merely grinned up at him casually. 

“Sorry My Liege,” Random straightened his back struts as he, quite proudly, recalled everything Blitzwing told him about respecting their leader, and followed the precise directions.

Megatron quirked an optical ridge, mildly impressed with the mature behavior implemented by a normally immature mech, “It’s no worry young colonel. Where would you be headed?” He inquired nonchalantly.

“To visit Lieutenant Lugnut in ze infirmary,” Random chimed without missing a beat, smiling brightly up at his commander. “As you know, he got hurt during ze last fight ve lost; so I zought I vould see how he is doing.” He shuffled his pedes somewhat impatiently, clearly trying to keep his mature composure with some trouble. 

The grey warlord nodded with a contemplative noise emitting from his vocalizer. “How courteous of you, I did not think you two were that close.” 

Relaxing under the seemingly casual circumstances, Random giggled, “Vell neither of my brothers, nor Lugnut vould probably admit it, but I like to zink so.” He fiddled with his servos mindlessly. “I don’t zink I’ve been closer to anyone before.” Megatron noted the subtle change in the young Decepticon’s vocalizer from an exuberant chatter to a thoughtful tone. “So I vill be going then. Don’t vant ze big lug to keel over before I get zere.” The Triple Changer waved at his commander as he continued skipping down the halls.

It took a little longer than expected but Random eventually found the Medical Wing and bounded through the main doorway with his purple wings perked a bit higher on his back struts than usual. “Hook,” The ‘con called over to the yellow and purple Constructicon stood nearby, “Vere is Lieutenant Lugnut?” He asked cheerily. Hook haphazardly lifted a yellow servo and pointed down the harshly-lit hallway towards the end, the glowing purple data pad being thoroughly ignored between his fingers. Random nodded in thanks and merrily continued on down the hallway.

He reached the end of the hallway, to the only closed door and tapped a standard-level security bypass into the keypad to unlock the door, which opened with a shaky _’hiss’_. Lugnut was sitting up, slouched and not completely straight, and shifting through a stack of data pads; his optics continuously shuttered, straining to relay the information on the palate to his processor in his injured state. “ _Halo Herr Lugnut._ ” Random chattered gleefully into the otherwise quiet room.

The larger, purple Decepticon looked at the Triple Changer bewilderedly, setting the data pads down and straightening his spinal struts. “Colone- oh Random, what are you doing here?” Lugnut asked, his vocalizer curiously quieter than his usual booming presence. 

“I’m here to visit you silly!” Without worry the Triple Changer jumped onto the edge of his companion’s berth, pulling out a cube of straight-energon and shoving it into the carrier plane’s servos. “Here, I zhought you vould be tired of zhat medical-grade stuff by now. How’re the boo-boos?” Random questioned childishly without skipping a beat as he gripped the edges of the berth and swung his pedes to distract his restless ligaments.

“Well I feel fine, though Hook insists I stay in this blasted berth until I _’recover’_.” Lugnut almost growled. To that Random quirked his helm curiously and fearlessly reached out and placed his dark-colored servo over the roughly-patched injury on his companion’s chest, drawing out a sharp hiss from the carrier plane. 

He giggled, “Vell it does not seem as such my hard-headed _freunde_. You’re still hurt, so you should just as vell stay put.” 

Lugnut gave him an odd look, delicately rubbing the offending injury with his pincer-like servo. Had anyone else presented themselves into his medical-room without permission, let alone prodded his injuries, he would have promptly dismembered them; save for his all-powerful leader Megatron. But the further exception seemed to be young Random, and when Lugnut took a moment to think about it, he would not think about forwardly assaulting any of Blitzwing’s personas; despite the common collective assumption of the Triple Changer’s weakness, he proved to be quite dangerous, and lethally powerful, when provoked. 

Blitzwing internally sighed, deciding enough was enough and forcing his youngest persona into submission and taking control of their chassis. The cool-headed face of Blitzwing soon adorned the space beneath his beige-visored helmet, calm scarlet optics casting a glance over his injured companion as he stood up and regained his astounding amount of self-control. 

“I apologize for his behavior Lieutenant Lugnut, I vould have taken control but,” Blitzwing stopped, newly aware of the exhaustion plaguing his frame which was the original cause of him allowing his young counterpart to take over. The poorly scabbing gash in his side stung him; he had purposefully taken the brunt of the pain to prevent his counterparts from experiencing it as well, ergo his exclusive exhaustion. He sighed, “I was indisposed.” 

Lugnut nodded profoundly, “Understandable Colonel, it was no real trouble.” He assured the Triple Changer. His predominate optical sensor scanned over the corresponding mech’s purple and beige frame when his sensors detected a break in Blitzwing’s armor. “Blitzwing, have you been treated yet?” Lugnut wondered, motioning towards the injury in the Triple Changer’s side. 

A quizzical noise found its way from Blitzwing’s vocalizer, “Zere is nothing to be treated.” He raised a servo to Lugnut’s disapproving look. “I am fine. Honestly, everybot has seemed to adopt the role of my creator today, I am not a child.” He chuckled light-heartedly as he crossed his arms, strategically blocking the nasty-looking injury in his waist. 

“I was only thinking of your well-being, but if you are so insistent upon your stubborn abrasiveness I have no further quarries.” Lugnut sarcastically returned to scanning over his data pads, trying laboriously to keep a grin off his features, and ultimately failing. 

Blitzwing smiled and nudged his companion’s arm, “I am fine I assure you. It is nothing but a scratch.”

“The definition of a _’scratch’_ does not ordain an infection or lingering pain.” The carrier plane moved Blitzwing’s arm and quickly scanned the gash in his waist before the Triple Changer could pull out of his reach, making a disapproving sound. “This should have been treated cycles ago Blitzwing. I’m no medical officer but my scans indicate you have an infection that has already spread to your energon lines in the surrounding area; you need to see Hook about this before the bacteria begins flowing through your energon-stream to your vital arteries.”

Again Blitzwing shrugged off the suggestion whilst shaking his helm, “I am not in need of immediate assistance,” He hesitated, allowing a comparatively kind look to cross his pale features. “I am more concerned about your life-threatening injuries in sharp contrast to my miniscule scratch.” Blitzwing reached out again, but this time with a delicate servo did he lightly graze his fingers over the temporary patch on Lugnut’s upper chest, housing his most severe injury. “Though Hook assures that you vill make a quick recovery, a severed fuel line does not always heal safely, and due to our current circumstances ve do not have the inventory to treat such an injury.”

“Well,” Lugnut began. “While I know my self-check system is not up-to-par due to my core-related injuries, I have not picked up any major fuel line breakages, so there is no need to worry about that.” He assured with a sullen glance to his patched wound. 

To that Blitzwing scoffed with an amused smirk; he pointed to the discolored purple armor on his companion’s chest plate. “Here, the Prime’s lance pierced the upper guard capsule of your spark chamber; a dangerous injury in and of itself. Common knowledge lists the guard capsule housing not only one of your vital fuel lines, but delicate circuitry that, vhen badly damaged, vill collaterally affect surrounding fuel lines to compensate for the energon loss.” He reached towards the end of Lugnut’s berth and pulled Hook’s medical report from the clip, scanning it over with a scrutinizing optic. “Have you read this? You’ve severed a major coronary tube between your spark and your processor _Dummkopf_. You are lucky to be conscious and online, most other ‘bots vould have bled out on the scene.”

Lugnut smirked, “Now who’s acting like a motherboard?” He pointed out, chuckling when Blitzwing rolled his optics and subtly cocked his hips when he moved to replace the data pad in the clip. 

“Fine smart-aft, it is obvious your concern for self-preservation is less than paltry; somebot must show some interesting in your vell-being if not yourself.” Blitzwing easily restrained a laugh given his sarcastic tone, but smiled brightly over at his friend. 

At that moment Lugnut was quite glad his faceplates were made of considerably sturdy material because he had an odd feeing that he was blushing terribly; he hated such casual confrontations with the Triple Changer, it was a direct contrast to the stiff and formal air he was used to. And Blitzwing… just had a wonderful smile, and to the day it does not fail to lighten his mood. After a moment of silence, Blitzwing cocked his head slightly to the side, “Vhat?” 

“What do you mean _’what’_?”

“You are staring at me,” He never stopped smiling, of course Lugnut had not looked away. “Vhat could be so interesting?” 

The carrier plan cleared his throat, “Sorry, I was contemplating something.” Lugnut mumbled as he took hold of another data-pad and began scanning over it silently. A quiet chuckle emanated from the Triple Changer’s vocalizer and he shifted on his pedes, and he crossed his arms once again.

“Vhat, don’t feel like talking anymore?” His smile faltered, “Did I say something? Are you not feeling vell?” He moved a bit closer to the berth, casting a careful stare at the monitors with Lugnut’s current health-status on the screen. 

Lugnut was quick to correct the sudden change in behavior, straightening out again as he grinned. “Well if you were stabbed through the spark chamber then you would not be at top function either.” 

Blitzwing scoffed and rolled his optics, “Upper guard capsule,” He corrected, “Not your actual spark chamber.” He went to continue but the beeping of the Decepticon’s local comm. link distracted him from the conversation. 

_-Blitzwing, your presence is required in the throne room.-_

Megatron’s speech was overwhelmingly dominant, though short and to-the-point before he hung up the comm.; expecting no more than for his soldier to do as instructed. Un-amused with being summoned during down-time, Blitzwing sighed hard and made a move towards the door. “I need to go attend to our lord,” Another small smile graced his features. “I hate to go. Ve vill talk more later, as long as that is okay with you, _ja_?” He nodded before taking his leave towards the door. 

There was a moment when the berth-ridden carrier plane thought he would ask his companion to remain there, and directly disobey Megatron’s orders; however disobeying the Decepticon tyrant was out of the question. “I would greatly appreciate that, Blitzwing. We can further discus the consequences of a damaged Spark Chamber.” 

He chuckled when he heard Blitzwing’s voice emanate down the hallway back at him, “ _Upper Guard Capsule._ ” 

_’One of you needs to make a slaggin’ move.’_ Random chided through Blitzwing’s processor as he made his way towards the throne room. 

The Decepticon quirked an optical-ridge, “Vhat do you mean _’make a move’_?” He inquired, his optics narrowing when Random giggled.

_’Did you see his faceplate, Blitzy? You are not zhat oblivious are you?’_

Blitzwing sighed and rolled his optics, thoroughly ignoring his younger persona as he continued, though a few of the moronic rambling caught his attention. “ _Ein moment bitte_ , say that last part again?”

_’Was? Corporal Sunstorm’s new paintjob?’_

“ _Nein, Dummkopf_ ; you said something about mich und the Lieutenant.” Blitzwing sighed as Random fumbled around with his words before finally remembering what he meant. 

_’Oh, I said you two vould make funny-looking sparklings.’_ The young ‘con giggled again as Blitzwing’s pale faceplate lit up red.

“Oh shush, vhy vould that matter?” He did not want to give too much acknowledgement to the comment; it would only edge on his younger companion.

 _’Zhink about it; your chasis, his paintjob, and you know both of you technically only have one optic, your wings and his pincers; ergo, a funny-looking sparkling. Zhey vould be pretty cute zough.’_ At that the blush on Blitzwing’s face only deepened and he tried to hide his embarrassment by scowling, He could tell Random was chuckling at him.

 

His defeat in the argument was inevitable and Blitzwing toned out anything else Random chirped for the rest of the trek until he arrived at Megatron’s throne room. He kneeled respectfully in front of the ominous, oversized chair supporting the Decepticon tyrant; a metaphorical projection of his _almost_ unopposed rule. “Lord Megatron, you summoned mich?” 

There was a lingering silence that gave the Triple Changer a moment to absorb his surroundings. The room was spacious but relatively empty; the dark stone walls glittered subtly with the underlying mineral deposits that accentuated the luminescent purple veins that ran over the installed metal flooring leading to the warlord’s throne. A nearby wall housed a wrack upon which a plethora of weapons hung on display; some antiques never to be used, and some very new and very _dangerous_ weapons, that no-doubt Megatron was just waiting to implement upon some poor-soul.

“How is Lieutenant Lugnut? Recovering well I hope.” Megatron drawled somewhat lazily, sipping mindlessly on an energon cube.

Blitzwing stood upon his Lord’s motion to rise and straightened his back struts, “Yes sir, though if I may offer a suggestion; Autobot Sentinel Prime pierced the upper guard capsule of the Lieutenant’s spark chamber, severing an important coronary tube vhich allows energon to flow from his spark chamber to his processor and vice-versa.” He dutifully relayed the information. “I know it vould be an inconvenience; but ve should look into procuring an advanced medical layout with the capability of treating such an injury. Seeing as though ve do not have such at the moment.” 

Megatron seemed to give the idea some thought, tapping his pede against the floors, “From your knowledge, what would be the worse-case scenario were we to leave Lugnut’s injury as-is?” He intertwined his dark fingers together and rested his elbows on his knees.

“Zhe vorse-case scenario,” The Triple Changer began hesitantly, some part of him dreading the true medical answer. “Vithout treatment his system may be able to patch the severed line by itself,” His optics drifted down to the floor, “But in most cases, an injury such as his vould limit circulative energon flow to his processor,” He could tell he was procrastinating, he tried to run every fact over in his processor, trying to find an outcome that did not involve the inevitable. “After multiple, unpreventable system failures…the final result vould be death.” 

A thoughtful sound came from Megatron’s vocalizer and he stood up from his throne, “Very well, I would not like to take any chances with my lieutenant; lest I lose a valuable addition to the Decepticons.” He faced Blitzwing, the height difference greatly apparent. “I have been unable to contact Shockwave on Cybertron, so the only other option would be to procure the Autobot’s supplies from here on Earth. Their medic recently obtained what we need from the Elite Guard; it will be a relatively simple task to take it.” The warlord stepped over to a large monitor and brought up a map of Detroit, and the recently discovered Autobot base. “You and a handful of the Seekers will go tonight; take Captain Slipstream and Ramjet, despite their excessive nagging they are easily the most covert of the Seekers.”

Blitzwing internally groaned at the idea of having to deal with any of the seekers, while he found Slipstream (and for that matter Skywarp) to be bearable in contrast to the others, he generally did not enjoy the flyers’ company. Sunstorm’s praising was obnoxious and got old quickly, Thundercracker’s arrogance was just as annoying, Ramjet was just confusing and loud, and then of course there was Starscream; the leader and by far the _worst_ of them all. Blitzwing had been hoping he could go by himself, but he was not about to go against orders; especially when Megatron had been generous enough to listen, let alone implicate his request. 

“Yes My Lord. I thank you for your patronage.” Blitzwing waited to be sent away, and was quite eager once he was. Many thoughts plagued his processor, the main one being how in the name of Cybertron he was going to manage getting into the Autobot’s base without outright attacking. 

“So you signed me up for another bull-headed mission have you?” A higher, raspy voice chimed near the Triple Changer as he walked down the hallway. He spun around, exhaustion forcing the Icy persona away as Hothead took over, and he revved his heat-canons as he did so. “Oh don’t get your circuits in a bunch, Hothead.” Slipstream smirked, crossing her arms in front of her chest and not so much as shuttering an optical sensor as the lethal canons were pointed at her.

Hothead growled and sent the command to bring his canons back down to his back struts and turned on his heels, “You are helping me to retrieve somezhing to aid our cause, it is more important zhan any menial task you set in higher priority.” He barely finished yelling before Blitzwing decided to get on good terms with his to-be team and took over.

“Vhat he meant to say, Captain, vas that I vould greatly appreciate your help in obtaining the needed medical equipment to properly treat Lieutenant Lugnut; your skill would be greatly appreciated.” Blitzwing knew Slipstream was to cleaver to be swayed by mere praise, but it could never hurt to get on her good side. 

The Seeker seemed to mull the thought over, her wings twitching in just the slightest as she tried to think. “Fine,” Slipstream huffed, suddenly un-amused with the conversation at hand, “I have no prior engagements, I’d be happy to help you get some big Band-Aids for your mech-friend.” She smirked cunningly and strutted in the opposite direction, and only chuckled when Hothead had a few things to say about the snide remark. 

-.-

“I must say Colonel Blitzwing; this plan could not possibly be flawed.” Ramjet sneered in his jet mode, avoiding Slipstream when she swerved into his flight radius. 

“Shut up bolts-for-brains, if you can even manage to do so for more than a slaggin’ cycle; then _maybe_ this plan will go accordingly.” She toggled her flight path to veer back into her assumed place to Blitzwing’s back right. The Triple Changer said nothing in regards to his temporary teammate’s confrontation, merely internally arguing with Hothead about the importance of _”risking their actuators to get medicine for that overgrown wrecking-ball”_ to which Blitzwing level-headedly explained was quite necessary. 

The outward silence lingered on until the three flyers were within a mile of the Autobot’s base, only then did the mission-leader speak up. “I hope you remember the plan. Captain, you vill accompany me inside the base and-“

“And hack the security lock on the medic’s stockpile, I understand.” Slipstream finished curtly. 

“ _Ja, und_ Ramjet,” Blitzwing paused, glancing back at the pale-colored Seeker, “I vould appreciate you keeping your vocalizer shut-off as much as possible. You vill stand guard, but do not seek confrontation vith the Autobots or any of the humans unless it is completely necessary.” He grinned to himself when Ramjet sighed and agreed begrudgingly.

 _’Ooo, see, you do care about ze big guy! Vhy else vould you be vorking so hard?’_ Random chimed through Blitzwing’s processor.

He rolled his optics and sent the internal command to reply, _’Ja, of course I am concerned, he is our partner after all. And no matter how reckless Lugnut may be in the name of Megatron, the time has not come for him to join the Well of All Sparks.’_ Blitzwing spoke lowly to his young counterpart, quite glad Hothead was currently in stasis so he could not start an argument. 

Finally the shabby warehouse was almost directly below the three Decepticons and they all landed as quietly as possible, Ramjet even proving to act serious enough to keep his vocalizer silent as they took their positions. “Tell me again why we have to _sneak in_ to their base? We’re Decepticons after all. And I can’t help but feel like a fool.” Slipstream whispered to Blitzwing in an agitated tone as she pried open the steel doors. Blitzwing did not respond, predominately due to the fact he was preoccupied in keeping Hothead quiet after he came out of stasis and had more than a few things to say to the Seeker. 

The base was dark, and the only lights in the expansive room are a few beeping monitors nearby, the abandon factory equipment sat rusting in the far corner of the room; there was makeshift seating to the right across from a large television screen, empty oil cans lay around, discarded but not trashed. It was easy enough for the Decepticons to find the medical wing; it was no further task than looking to the left to the large door with a painted red cross on it. Ramjet did as ordered and stood back-struts straight in front of the door as the two higher-ranking ‘cons entered. 

Thankfully, the Autobot’s medic was no-where to be seen, and his stockpile of medical supplies was barely a few yards away from the door; the only obstacle was the encrypted lock on the metal cabinet. Slipstream eyed it curiously and smirked, “You can de-crypt it?” Blitzwing asked quietly. 

She turned her helm back to glance at him, “Like off-lining a sparkling.” Quickly, she got to work, scanning the keypad and opening the access port on the underside, stringing a wire or two out and tapping a few buttons on the keypad. Blitzwing returned to the door, the only entrance to the relatively small room; looking out, he saw Ramjet still standing nearby, though he seemed to have slacked-off the moment he was out of optical range, for he was leaning against the wall and poking mindlessly at his digits. 

“Oh sure go with two of the most sadistic Decepticons ever, but don’t talk because you’ll probably frag scrap up if you do; hm, at least it’s not Lugnut, or…or Starscream. They’re even worse.” Ramjet mumbled under his breathe, crossing his arms over his chasis. 

_’Ooh, he’s got zhat right, hahahah!’_ Random giggled internally, which only succeeded in making Blitzwing roll his optics and grin. 

A small beep from the adjourning room brought the Triple Changer’s attention back to the task at hand; and thank _Primus_ , was Blitzwing glad to see Slipstream stood smugly next to the flawlessly opened cabinet. She looked confident as ever and glanced at her handiwork again, pulling out a container of top-grade medical energon and rotating it carefully between her thin fingers. “You’re vork is quite admirable Slipstream; I vill gather vhat we need, go alert Ramjet of our approaching departure and be ready to take your leave.” 

The Seeker nodded and tossed the energon into the mech’s servos as she passed, patting his raised shoulder-struts in a friendly gesture. She would never admit it to anyone, but she did not mind Blitzwing; that being Blitzwing, _not_ one of his annoying others. And he was an admirable mech; tactical, intelligent, and wise beyond his solar cycles of function, Slipstream had every reason to think of him so highly.

Blitzwing brought up a list of the needed supplies for their poorly-stocked medical wing, and the special requirements to treat Lugnut’s extensive injury; quickly he gathered everything they needed and stowed it away in his subspace. Things seemed to be going well and all was quiet, Random would have made some corny pun of _’Too quiet’_ but the younger ‘con seemed to be in stasis, so Blitzwing was looking forward to an uneventful flight back to the Decepticon’s headquarters.

“I suppose that was not as fool-hardy as I originally supposed,” Slipstream admitted as they began their return to the mines. She chuckled, “I’m quite sure all would have gone wrong had any of the others been chosen to join the mission. Even Megatron himself would have made a racket about something that was not up to his standards.” Her tone was eternally sarcastic and lacking of any enthusiasm an Autobot may express after a successful mission; but for Slipstream, a strong-willed and independent Decepticon, that was the closest thing to a _’Good job.’_ that anyone would ever pull from her.

Blitzwing smiled to himself, feeling quite accomplished; he flew nearer to Ramjet, “You proved yourself to be quite useful Ramjet. I thank you for your temporary reticence.” Coming from Blitzwing; that was a huge compliment- as Slipstream’s admittance had been- and would probably rarely be heard for the next million solar cycles. 

Ramjet went to reply but an unmistakable whirring sound filled the air around them; unbeknownst to any of the three ‘cons, they were headed straight for the port-side of _Death’s Head_ , the ship belonging to an infamous bounty hunter. Slipstream’s sensitive scanners were the first to pick up the camouflaged ship, but it was a tad late as the menacing vessel came into focus and the bay doors opened, the airlock on the ship sucking them in with little effort. 

“That was fun,” Ramjet murmured as he forced himself upright in the darkness of the ship. His yellow optics illuminated the area around him and the light bounced off his white armor like a torch. Before Blitzwing and Slipstream could shutter their optics, there were three distinct clicks and all three ‘cons were out-cold.

_._

Blitzwing was the first to wake 30 kliks later, having been spurred awake by an online and fussy Random; after the initial fuzz cleared the path of his optical sensors his instincts kicked in and he pushed desperately on the wires binding his arms against his torso. His struggle forced Slipstream online from where she was trapped on the table to his right, she followed the same path; struggling violently against the restraints and every few nano-kliks letting out a breathy curse. 

Soon enough, it became apparent that the wires binding them were too strong and both conscious Decepticons looked around for any possible escape. Blitzwing’s gaze fell upon Ramjet on the berth to his left and the sight worried him; the Seeker seemed to still be well-unconscious and unmoving, though the shaky rise and fall of his frame indicated he was still in-taking air. There was a large blunt force trauma-wound on his forehelm, and energon leaked from the cut that protruded from the bruised metal. “Ramjet?” No response, “ _Scheiße_ …”

He was not panicking, but Blitzwing sure-as-Pit was not trying to be too-calm; the mere feat of keeping both Random and Hothead quiet was a not-panicking gesture in and of itself. With a deep intake he called on one of Random’s personal mods and, thank _Primus_ , a blade left its sheath on his left forearm and sliced through the wires easily. “I didn’t know you had one of those,” Slipstream mused, a relieved look on her faceplate. 

Blitzwing shrugged and moved to cut her ropes, “Blitzwing behind you-!” She yelled. The Triple Changer spun around and was hit with some sort of electrical shock centering on his core, and he very quickly was floored by the pain it brought. His audials were ringing loudly through his processor; he could barely make out Slipstream cursing at someone and a dark chuckle that emanated through his mind.

“I must admit Blitzwing, I thought you were a bit more attentive. I mean- Megatron’s chief strategist, and his top colonel? You would think a mech of your status would be more inclined to vigilance.” Lockdown’s voice was like sandpaper on Blitzwing spiking audials. The Bounty Hunter easily reached down and snatched him up by his wing struts, drawing a pained, weak yell from the injured mech. “Can’t say I’m not surprised, you ‘cons nowadays are getting careless, and quite useless if I do say so myself.”

Another dental-grinding chuckle and a paroxysm of pain through Blitzwing’s wings and back struts; it took all of his power not to just pass out and let the darkness envelope his aching frame. Worse yet, his previously scabbing wound had been sliced back open when they were sucked into the ship, and was bleeding energon readily down his side. “Though your canons don’t seem too useless at all; a hyperfrost emitter, _and_ a heat ray. Contradictory, but nonetheless immensely effective.”

There was almost no second-thought as Lockdown revved up his chainsaw mod and messily sliced Blitzwing’s canons off at his back plates. Blitzwing bit down on his dentas hard, but could not stop an agonized yell from being emitted from his strained vocalizer. It was a sickening feeling; the thick energon oozing from the open wound, crawling down his back and seeping into every crevice or break in his armor. He could feel the broken tendons, wires, and circuitry spilling from the injury, some hanging by mere micro-wires, some merely stuck in place by the flowing energon and oil leaks. 

Blitzwing, in a frail act of noble kinship, isolated every sensory circuit in his chasis and directed them solely to his processor so neither Random or Hothead would have to experience the same agony. If it was at-all comprehendible to the Decepticon, Blitzwing could feel his tear-ducts shaking to life as the pain just kept plaguing his body in waves of unbridled misery. Though he would never cry, the reaction was there, and it only hurt more.

And, _oh yes Primus_ , it hurt him; of course he had been shot, stabbed, and blown to pieces before, but those times had been surface wounds- injuries that his self-repair could heal easily. Or, in the case of being blown to pieces, merely detachable hinges that are, in some manner of the term, _meant_ to be detached. Never had he had a piece of his chasis torn from his body so bluntly, and it hurt like the _Pit_. 

Lockdown seemed pleased enough with his work and set the pair of canons on a table nearby before returning and yanking the shaking mech to his pedes again; Blitzwing glared at him the best he could, offhandedly noticing how the Bounty Hunter’s exhaust smelled of low-grade oil and high-grade energon. “Now, now; it wasn’t so bad was it Blitzy?” 

The Triple-Changer snarled and spit out a mix of energon and saliva at the bounty hunter, the gross mixture hit him between the optics and brought a guttural growl from him. He heaved the beige ‘con around and against the wall, coincidentally throwing him into a rack of mods, each one tumbling from its place and into an unorganized pile over the ground. Lockdown wiped the vile from his faceplate and proceeded to haul Blitzwing up again, snarling directly in his face. “You’ve got some nerve you triple-changing _freak_.”

“Go to zhe _Pit_ Bounty Hunter…the vorld vould be - _chhzt_ \- b-better vithout you.” Blitzwing ground out through his gritted dentas, gasping when the neutral took a firm grip around his throat column. “Lord Megatron vill not vish to cooperate vith you after he hears about this.” The threat was very true, and Blitzwing almost smirked when he said it; had it not been for the overwhelming pain plaguing his frame, he would have done just that.

Though with a hook-servo digging into the underside of his chin, the Triple Changer found his facial expression remained angry and pained. “Hmhm, well perhaps we should not let him know,” 

A pang of fear wiggled through his spark, something in him understood what Lockdown meant by that, but his adamant nature refused to let that come to pass. Blitzwing was easily able to hatch a quick plan, and he subtly opened his private comm. link with Lugnut.

Back in the infirmary at the Decepticon headquarters, Lugnut was brought out of his reading when his comm. beeped to life; he answered it quietly and sent a nonchalant greeting when he noted it was Blitzwing’s frequency. “Hello?” He called after a few moments without a response.

“Besides, that fool Megatron would probably not miss a handful of useless slag-heads such as your three.” Lockdown very nearly purred, his mood sadistically lightened with the thought of all the new mods he was about to obtain. “Anyway,” He finished, relieving Blitzwing of the vice grip on his throat. The Bounty Hunter’s gaze fell and landed on the lethal blade-mod stored on his captive’s arm. “That’s a p’urdy little mod you have there as well. Refined Cybertronian steel with enlaced chemical tips, is it? A rare mixture since the wars started.” Lockdown chuckled, “It’s not _yours_ though is it, Blitzy? It’s one of your freak _persona’s_. Well I hope you don’t mind if I borrow this-“

Even without restraints, Blitzwing could not move fast enough when his captor made a grab for the still-extended blade at his forearm; he brutishly grabbed the blade and pried the mod from his chasis, relishing in the pained shout the action caused. 

“ _You sadistic freak!_ Why don’t you untie us and fight like a real mech!” Slipstream snarled and pulled harder against the wires binding her. She could do nothing but watch her mission leader fall over and begin to bleed out a mass of energon, his wing struts twitched and shuddered due to the injury in his back; his self-repair systems unable to even find a place to start with the massive wound. 

Lockdown found the little struggle from the femme to be quite amusing, and regarded her as he nudged Blitzwing out of his path with his pede. “You’ve got quite the mouth kiddo,” His optics landed on her sonic-pulse canons mounted on her upper arms. “And what sensible mech would I be if I didn’t relieve a lady of her heavy pulse canons? Can’t have you carrying those around; with your vengeful spirit you could hurt somebody.” Lockdown’s chainsaw mod sliced through both of those guns before Slipstream could even work out another snappy comeback. 

She yelled out in pain; the Bounty Hunter had cut through part of her arm to obtain the mods, it was sloppy and considerably more painful. “To the _Pit_ with you fragger!” She growled.

Lugnut was already addressing Megatron on the incident, having been listening in since he received Blitzwing’s comm. “I knew that Bounty Hunter would lose my favor eventually, I did not think it would be before the wars ended.” The warlord shook his helm and stood up, stepping over to his wall of trophy weapons. He took down a particularly terrifying-looking sword and held it firmly in his grasp, “Let us go retrieve our comrades, Lugnut. Send word to Soundwave quickly, tell him to monitor the situation; I do not want the neutral to pull any trickery.” Megatron and Lugnut soon left the mines and headed to the last-known location of the three captured Decepticons, the task made infinitely more difficult with the signal dampeners blocking their signals from detection. 

“Lord Megatron and I are en-route,” Lugnut mumbled through the still-opened comm. link to Blitzwing. A small part of him was worried, going by the silence that had encompassed the audio waves since the initial bout of yelling, and Lockdown talking. “Just hang on…”

It was over 3 voorns before either Decepticons were able to locate the Death’s Head, and when they did, Lugnut realized exactly what they could be up against. Never before had the need arisen for him to fight the Bounty Hunter, and he had limited knowledge of what Lockdown had in his arsenal; he made a guess that involved almost every kind of modification Cybertron and beyond had to offer.

“My Lord, should we be more concerned about the Bounty Hunter’s defenses?” Lugnut inquired as they approached the ship.

“Blitzwing was smart to merely open his comm. and not speak into it; it alerted us of the problem while not letting Lockdown know. We have the element of surprise on our side Lieutenant.” Megatron explained patiently. He stopped, seeming to find what he was looking for and wedged the end of his sword into the crack in the door, he smirked triumphantly as the door clicked open as soon as it was obstructed. “And we have our entry already.”

Ramjet had not woken from stasis yet, and despite the unbearable pain coursing through her frame, Slipstream was becoming concerned for her fellow Seeker. The break in his helm had not stopped bleeding, and he barley flinched when Lockdown removed his plasma canons; all evidence pointed to a severe processor injury, but she would not put her credits on it. 

Lockdown had since left to another part of the ship with his sets of newly obtained mods, humming nonchalantly to himself as he meandered out of sight. “Blitzwing?” Slipstream hissed out, “Blitzwing you incompetent fool, get up! Let one of your idiot brothers take over.” She insisted, trying with renewed vigor to break the wires trapping her against the table. They had begun to dig into her chassis, however, and in certain places her frame had begun to bleed from the lacerations from the wires.

Still floored from energon loss and physical pain, Blitzwing barely made out a groan and tried in vain to push himself up; that ultimately failed of course, as his only useable arm gave out underneath him. “ _Nein_ ,” He choked out, surprised when a dribble of energon fell from his mouth onto the floor. Slipstream noted the worrisome symptom with a concerned grimace. “ _Was ist…oh, das ist nicht gut._ ” Blitzwing pointed out weekly trying again to push himself up.

The air in the room was stagnant, and reeked of energon and oil; the bleeding had not stopped all over the Triple Changer’s frame, and the pool of the life-giving fluid was only growing beneath him. “Damn-it,” Slipstream hissed, “Just, hold on Colonel. If somebot is going to get us out of here it might as well be me.” She strategically moved her legs to where the tail fins of her jet mode were pressed against the wires restraining her limbs; with a bit of effort the wires began to tear, emphasized with an agitating sheering sound of metal against metal. She easily restrained her accomplished exclamation as she was finally free of the wires, standing to her pedes silently and immediately attending to the mission leader.

Slipstream took hold of Blitzwing’s arm and pulled him to face upwards, drawing out a lingering, pained groan. “Colonel?” She roughly patted his helm, immensely displeased after she noticed the faint dimming of the Triple Changer’s crimson optics. 

“I… _Ich habe Rückenschmerzen…_ ” He muscled out breathily, “ _Ich muss…Ich muss zum Arzt gehen._ ”

Slipstream ran the foreign words through her translator and soon nodded, “Yes I’m sure you’re in pain, sir.” She made care to keep any and all concern out of her vocalizer, preferring to remain strictly business. 

“Immense pain, most likely.” The Seeker could not turn fast enough to prevent Lockdown from taking hold of her wings and pulling outwards on the sensitive expanses of metal. “Well leaving you bunch alone isn’t a good idea apparently,” He yanked down, tearing Slipstream’s wings almost off, smirking sadistically. “You all are more trouble than you’re worth. I have your mods, and there is a huge Black Market for Decepticon parts.”

“Give me a fair fight and no one would even be able to salvage what is left of your mutilated carcass!” Slipstream spat out defiantly, kicking back at Lockdown and successfully loosening his grasp on her wings, just enough for her to pull away. 

“Woah, this gal’s got a bit of bite left don’tcha.”

The Seeker ground her dentas together and lunged, throwing her fist then her pede at Lockdown and showering him with a barrage of servo-to-servo attacks. But energon loss and a damaged frame were enough to drain the flyer and ultimately lose her the battle when the Bounty Hunter used the same electrical prod on her that he had used on Blitzwing earlier. Her chassis convulsed violently before toppling over onto the ground, she grunted then coughed out a splash of energon onto the metal flooring. 

In vain, Slipstream tried to force herself up, but a painful tingling sensation sent her keeling over in agony, she could do nothing more, but would not be so weak as to lose consciousness. She growled menacingly when Lockdown pressed the heel of his pede to her helm, putting as much malice as she could muster into her paint-peeling glare. “You dare have to audacity to put your _filthy_ stabilizers on me?” The only answer she received was an immense amount of pressure bludgeoning her black helm; she could feel the delicate circuitry within her processor beginning to crack and send off sparks from the strain. 

It was possibly the most painful thing she had felt in a long time, but it simultaneously gave her a rush of determination and adrenaline that propelled her to knock the Bounty Hunter away from her and onto his aft. “What the-“ His exclamation was cut short as a powerful blow was planted into his mid-plating, knocking the air from his circulatory vents. Slipstream did not stop as she mercilessly began to pummel the floored neutral with all the furry of the enraged Decepticon that she was. After just a few moments, Lockdown’s pale faceplate was almost unrecognizable, dents and gashes stood out where the Seeker’s dangerously sharp servos had made a connection; energon oozed from every break she had caused, and one powerful jab in-particular sent the Bounty Hunter reeling backwards.

Slipstream slouched over a bit, barely keeping herself balanced on two pedes as she panted and tried to regain a clear line-of-sight. Her processor was pounding and he HUD was indicating several injuries that needed immediate care, but she had to stay up, there were issues to take care of; two of them being her unconscious and semi-conscious teammates. But the darkness was quite tempting, she pondered powering-down for just a moment as her legs gave out and she fell to the side. “Lousy _-grrhhhzzt-_ good fer’ nothin’ _\--cshts-_ Decepticon!” Lockdown grumbled through his battered vocalizer, finding the strength to stand up despite his unstable gyros.

But neither battling ‘bot moved as a few loud bangs echoed throughout the Death’s Head, coupled with a rumbling chuckle as the Lord of the Decepticons pried open the closed doors to the occupied room. “M-Megatron…” Lockdown had never looked so frightened as he stumbled back, caught mid-way through off-lining three of Megatron’s soldiers, two of them being high-ranking officers. 

“Lockdown, your actions and inherently bellicose nature have finally caught-up with you,” The grey mech’s smirk faded into an agitated scowl as his dangerously narrowed optics fell over the almost lifeless forms of his unit. “You act like you own the galaxy Lockdown, but your mods do not make you invincible.” Megatron mused, motioning Lugnut to come forward and begin tending to their injured Decepticons. The warlord tapped the tip of his sword to the Bounty Hunter’s throat, delicately tracing over some of the damaged wires there and allowing his smirk to return when his cornered target swallowed nervously.

Meanwhile Lugnut firstly attended to the purple Seeker who was barely holding herself up on one arm, the other wrapped around her mid-plating; she grunted when Lugnut tried to help her up. Through shuddered optics she was actually glad to see the big lug, “Took you long enough Lieutenant.” Slipstream cracked a small grin and relied heavy on the purple mech’s support for a few moments as she re-gained her stability. After shooing Lugnut away from her, she hurriedly attended to Ramjet, who had only just begun to stir from his unconscious state. His yellow optics shuddered weakly at the harsh light and he groaned, shoving against the restraints he barely registered were there. His fellow Seeker easily cut him free and began to revive him in the best way she could; by smacking his helm until he was online.

Blitzwing, however, could not be treated with such loose pity, but rather with the upmost care. Lugnut very-nearly slipped on the still-growing pool of bright purple energon, and had to triple-shudder his optical sensors before he truly processed the sight. It was only after a few initial scans that Lugnut determined how to go-about helping his partner; very, _very_ carefully he wedged his arms under the Triple Changer’s shoulders and knees, and lifted him from the puddle of his own life-blood. The movement caused an agonized whine of pain to slip through Blitzwing’s strained vocalizer.

Lugnut had vaguely registered the bout of shouting and unmistakable tear of metal behind him but chose to ignore it, preferring to check with Slipstream and Ramjet; who were both fine aside from a few serious structural injuries Slipstream was sporting, and a major blunt-force trauma affliction and internal bleeding on Ramjet’s part. 

“Lugnut take your leave with the others, I shall accompany you back at the mines.” Megatron mumbled with a mischievous grin whilst, Slipstream noted through the haze in her processor, hauling Lockdown’s partially off-lined chasis up into his grasp. Lugnut instinctively turned to regard his master respectively, but an unfamiliar sense of protectiveness overwhelmed his preference for the system of rank. Stepping onto the ship had been enough for the Decepticon Lieutenant, the putrid stench of energon and other bile stung his olfactory sensors; coupled with the overbearing sense of dread one gained within the _Death’s Head_ , it was a considerable amount to absorb. 

Blitzwing shifted weekly in his arms, coughing weekly and managing to spurt out a surmountable sum of energon onto both his and Lugnut’s armor. Slipstream took a moment from tending to Ramjet and looked worriedly over the Triple-Changer as they all headed towards the exit of Lockdown’s ship. “That’s bad…” She said in a melancholic voice, optics dimmed but concerned as she looked over her mission leader. The purple carrier plan said nothing, but looked out questioningly into the night as they reached the open bay-doors from which they would make their exit. 

Should he transform and hold Blitzwing in his cargo-area, or play it safe and return to the Decepticon headquarters in ‘bot mode, he pondered. “Quickly Lugnut, we must make haste less our companions bleed out.” Slipstream urged her superior officer as she pulled Ramjet’s arm over her shoulder and activated her heel-based thrusters. “Just hold him like that, I will send a comm. to Starscream to have Hook prepare the medical wing.” With that she took off, a small wince exhaled from Ramjet’s vocalizer in accordance with the strain on his frame.

The Decepticon Lieutenant nodded and mimicked the ignition of his own thrusters, taking off with a careful ease, but unable to provide complete comfort for the critically injured mech he was carrying. He was moved to near sickness when he finally registered his partner’s life blood forming small rivers of luminescent purple down his arms and chest, but he was grateful it was not him in Blitzwing’s position, but he hated how useless he felt. His partner was not even moving anymore, and he assumed the worse as he began the long flight back to the mineral mines they made their base in.

_._

_”I urge you to be careful, Blitzwing. You do not know what may happen.” Lugnut mumbled, trying again to sit up, greeted with the protest of his partner._

_Blitzwing smiled before Hothead’s visage spun into focus, “Vhat are you saying? I can handle my own against a straggle of vorthless Autobots!” He yelled, clenching his fists in front of him._

_“I was not implying anything to the contrary, Hothead,” The purple mech chided, trying not to sound annoyed. He was relieved when Blitzwing took control again, “I’m just saying to be watchful.” He concluded, met with a small chuckle from his compatriot._

_“Vhile I am appreciative of your concern, I am more than capable of handling my own,” He placed a servo on his bed-ridden friend’s arm and gave him a reassuring look. “And handling you as vell apparently.” He crossed his arms, “The mission vill be quick and easy, ve’ll bring back vhat you need.” His smile lit up Lugnut’s day for a moment until the carrier plane shrugged the notion away._

_._

Opening his optics proved to be a terrible idea as the bright, incandescent light stung his sensitized sensors and he was suddenly hyper-aware of the excruciating pain in his back, coupled with the throbbing in his arm. There was a staggered beeping resonating from somewhere in Blitzwing’s proximity, though in his hazy state he could not pick out exactly where. He tried to move his torso but a blinding pain shot up his spinal strut and froze him in place.

From somewhere in the nothingness the Triple Changer barely registered someone talking to him; a somewhat monotone voice with a partial electronic overlay. All the words morphed together into one nontangible cluster of syllables, and after a few moments of trying laboriously to understand what exactly the words meant Blitzwing gave up and fell back into darkness again. 

_._

Hook shot his gaze at the floor, standing straight in front of his superior officer, “No Lieutenant, the Colonel is not yet conscious. His physical state is…regrettably deteriorating, but if he can wake up then Sergeant Soundwave and I can do a psychological test and check his reflexes.” 

There was an obvious distressed emotion that crossed over Lugnut’s faceplate, one that he easily hid behind a mask of nonchalant neutrality; though nevertheless the Constructicon picked out the emotion and subtly acknowledged it, “There is _hope_ Lugnut, do not forget how strong-willed your partner is.” Hook assured the carrier plane with a careful grin.

“Yes, I suppose I should understand that more so than anyone else.” Lugnut nodded in agreement, willing himself to step towards the exit of the medical wing. 

“You know sir-“ Hook called after him hesitantly, holding up his servo to accentuate his point. “No one would judge you for keeping him…company, for lack of a better word.” His vocalizer had fallen down barely above a whisper, and his optics shot nervously from Lugnut to the floor. 

“He will most likely come-to within the next voorn or so, his vitals have been spiking in accordance with his on-lining systems, no matter how slowly they are doing so.” His fingers gripped his data pad and he offered as kind a smile as he could manage, patting his superior’s arm before he took his leave. “And having you around may support Blitzwing physically as well. You two have been partners for at least 10 thousand solar cycles, and known each other for another 1 million stellar cycles before that; your sparks have probably been tuned in-sync just from being friends this long. Odds are your presence will urge his systems online.” Hook finished explaining before stepping out of the hallway.

Lugnut offered the resident medic a silent, and somewhat befuddled _thank you_ , along with an odd look, as he stepped back towards one of the many patient rooms, the one that held one of the three currently injured Decepticons in the ranks. He was more than willing to disregard the doctor’s last little spiel there. Blitzwing lay un-movingly on the berth, tubes and wires attached to his chassis and the spark-support processes working steadily, trying to right the Triple Changer’s assaulted system. The Decepticon Lieutenant took a seat in the chair arranged against the wall nearest the berth whilst he let out a long sigh; his gaze fell on Blitzwing for a moment but he had to look away as a barrage of thoughts wracked his processor. 

He blamed himself, it truly had been due to his inconvenience that Blitzwing, Slipstream, and Ramjet had gone out to obtain supplies; because of him, Lugnut was quite sure, his partner was going to die. Though the supplies the three Decepticons brought back had already proven to be useful; Lugnut had been successfully repaired and was on the road to a full and quick recovery, his broken energon lines were patched and spark chamber healed closed. 

But such could not be said for Blitzwing, if Hook was relaying the correct information, it sounded like his chances for recovery were low at best. And with the damage on his wings, Lugnut shuddered at the thought; what if he could never fly again, even if he recovered? Perhaps having a fully functional tank mode would prevent the Triple Changer from going stir-crazy from lack-of-flight. Or worse-yet, what if Hook could not properly fix his back-plating, or never replace his cannons; he probably would not survive more than a lunar cycle with such an extensive injury. 

With an exasperated sigh Lugnut rested his elbows on his knee plating, shutting-off his main optical sensor and trying to ignore the dire situation he got his, dare he say, _friend_ into. 

_._

Again Blitzwing tried to pry open his unwilling optics, thankful that this time there was no incandescent light to greet him, but rather a softer light from the bedside lamp; it was not exactly warm or homely, but it was something. He tried to move but found that none of the pain had subsided, “ _Nh, slag…_ ” He strained to use his vocalizer.

Lugnut was jolted out of his hibernation mode and sat up straight, “Blitzwing, you’re awake.” He pointed out, looking at least partway relieved. “How’re you feeling?” He wondered.

“Like shit, to implicate an Earth term.” Blitzwing hastily remarked, forcing a pained smile to his faceplate. He moved a delicate servo to rub his helm before he coughed weekly, consequentially jutting his torn wing strut into the exposed wiring on his back; the motion brought a pained groan through his vocalizer. It was in vain that he tried to get comfortable, shifting his joints in an attempt to find the optimal position to where the pain would not cause him immense discomfort. “Vhat happened?” Blitzwing asked after settling back down, still in pain, but bearably so. 

Lugnut trekked nearer to the medical berth, “Your mission was compromised, the Bounty Hunter Lockdown captured you and your team and…” He trailed off as he looked over Blitzwing ravaged frame; energon stains still lined his armor. “He, of course, stole your modifications. Unfortunately leaving you with a dangerous wound on your back. Ramjet sustained a traumatic blunt-force injury to his cranial unit, and Slipstream very-nearly had her forearm plating ripped from her protoform.” He relayed the information slowly.

“Slag,” Blitzwing sighed breathily, digging the heel of his serve into his forehelm. “I knew I should not have tried, did I at least return vith the objective?” He wondered aloud, coughing weekly as he did so.

Lugnut nodded, “Yes, and I thank you a thousand times over.” With a grin he placed a pincer-like servo on his patched and healing chestplate. “While you were unconscious, Hook repaired my damaged chest cavity, thanks to the supplies you returned with he was able to almost fully heal me.” His spark thrummed a bit more lively in its chamber when the Triple Changer gave him a signature smile, albeit pained and exhausted, but still bright nonetheless. “You performed valiantly,” He admitted without truly realizing it. Blitzwing seemed taken aback. “Thank you, Blitzwing.” 

It was Blitzwing’s turn to feel the thrum of his spark beneath its plating as his partner took his servo more delicately than he would have supposed the carrier could; he felt the color flood to his pale faceplate, partway out of embarrassment for getting flustered for such a simple gesture. Hesitantly he curled his black-plated digits and squeezed Lugnut’s servo in return, “It vas my obligation after all,” He said quietly, the shy grin never leaving his face.

The Lieutenant scoffed, “Obligation? Blitzwing, I’ve got access to nearly all the Decepticon records and personal notes Lord Megatron records; he called you to talk about my repairs, you requested to go on a mission to retrieve medical supplies. Obligation my afterburners.” Lugnut finished with a grin. 

Blitzwing shook his helm, “I meant more of a personal obligation,” His optics darted away as he spoke, his servo tensing against Lugnut’s. He bit his lip components nervously, his free servo twisting and tangling in the sheets of the medical berth. “I could not leave you so critically injured, I-“ He coughed, his chassis heaving forward and he threw a servo over his mouth. Lugnut lurched forward as well, throwing his unoccupied arm over his companion, mindful of his extensively injured back. 

Moving his servo away, Blitzwing found splatters of faintly glowing energon on his palm and subtly wiped it on the covers next to him; he coughed weakly a couple more times before his deteriorating strength gave out and Blitzwing slumped back. His weight fell on Lugnut’s arm, who did not hesitate to support the Triple Changer’s fragile frame. “Are you alright?” The larger ‘con asked quietly as he helped Blitzwing back against the berth comfortably, not once letting go of his servo. 

A distant nod moved Blitzwing’s helm and he shuddered his optics heavily, “ _Ja…_ ” He mumbled quietly, “ _Ich bin müde,_ ”

Lugnut sighed, the monitors nearby caught his stare; they indicated the beginning of the medical transfer as the painkillers flooded his veins. “I can imagine you are,” Lugnut said after carefully analyzing the vocabulary. “You should recharge then. We can talk when you are feeling better.” He suggested quietly, deftly stroking his partner’s servo in his own. 

Blitzwing smiled, feeling better already thanks to the high dosage of medication, but nonetheless exhausted from his injuries, “Of course,” He very-nearly giggled. “I look forvard to laying optics on you again, ve should talk later about how annoying Starscream is, heheh…” His head lolled to one side and his optics shuddered closed for a moment, a drunken smile on his pale features. 

Lugnut chuckled, releasing the other’s servo and standing up, “Hm, always an interesting topic. Now get some rest, you need your strength.” 

Mindful of the many machines around them, the carrier plane made a move towards the door and only stopped when he heard his partner’s weak vocalizer giggle foreign words into the air, “ _Du bist der Einzige für mich…meine Liebste._ ” Looking back, Lugnut just barely noticed Blitzwing throw an award-winning, though crooked smile at him before he closed his optics and almost immediately fell into recharge. 

With a limited knowledge of the Triple Changer’s extensive vocabulary, the Lieutenant was barely able to pick out a few words: _You are…for….my…_ Without any contextual support he had no idea what his partner had said, so decided to store the sentence away in his memory banks for later. 

“Life is a gift that should not be taken lightly, Lieutenant.” Starscream slurred from his place in the corridor, grinning sinisterly when Lugnut turned sharply to glare at him. “You should be happy your partner is online, let alone able to talk to you.” The Seeker stepped pass the larger mech, “His chance of survival is dwindling by the voorn, Hook says he may not even last the week out.” Starscream lazily pulled out a datapad and handed it to Lugnut, who read over the contents carefully, his spark pulse beating loudly as he read over the statistics; energon loss, fatal system failures, inability to intake proper rations without regurgitation- Lugnut averted his gaze, moving the datapad out of his line of sight. He did not want to believe it, but the information slowly sank into his thick processor and hit him like a Cybertronian steel wall, crippling his thought process. The very thought of losing him…Lugnut did not want to think about it.

“All accounts say he should have offlined back on Lockdown’s ship, 50 gallons of energon is a lot to lose in under a day.” Starscream mused after a moment of tense silence. “Your affections for him, and vice-versa, may very well save his life.” He admitted nonchalantly, picking mindlessly at his digits. 

An odd looks takes hold of the purple Decepticon’s visage, “What do you mean?”

The magenta Seeker sighed lightly at his companion’s uncharacteristic naivety, “Blitzwing is cynically depressed, has to deal with two rambunctious processors that are connected to his own which causes him constant turmoil, and on top of it all he is the continuous bearer of anything said corresponding processors bring upon him.” Starscream gave a sideways glare at Lugnut, “To the naked optical sensor, Blitzwing has very little to fight for, and in a darker sense of the word; he has nothing to truly live for.” He smirked, “I have sight like a Cybertronian breeze glider, and being Second in Command, very little slips by without me noticing; both official and…personal.” 

He stopped talking for only a brief moment to key in the code for the observation room, gesturing Lugnut inside; once inside the Seeker stalked over and stood in front of the expansive windows that wrapped around the semi-circular observation deck; all concealed and undetectable from the outside. The room was poorly lit but the invading moonlight blanketed the room in a peaceful white glow that may have deceived another into believing the room held innocent intents. Other than Starscream and Lugnut, the room was empty, and only the security camera center beeped with the switching of surveillance angles; Starscream offhandedly remembered that Frenzy was scheduled for monitor duty, though it was commonplace for the Cassette to skip out on the monotonous requirement.

“By personal, are you suggesting covert surveillance? You have not been intruding upon the troop’s private lives have you, Starscream? Even Decepticons have a moral code that you, as our General, are obligated to follow.” Lugnut warned hesitantly, ready to either leave or fight if the answer were not up-to-par with the rules. 

Starscream shook his helm and sighed dramatically, “No you fool, just everyday acknowledgement. Besides, you are so obvious I would not even need anything covert.” He chuckled as he crossed his arms over his chest. He then answered Lugnut’s questioning gaze by snorting in amusement, “You are plainly infatuated with our Colonel, and he with you; and with your semi-synched sparks it is no wonder he is able to stay online.” It was like a game to him, to watch the intimidating carrier tense up and open his mouth without a word to say, dumbfounded though not exactly surprised as Starscream spoke. 

“Use that to your advantage, keep Blitzwing online; we cannot afford to lose any of our forces. I myself am-“

“Do not imply something so ludicrous General,” Lugnut interrupts. Starscream shut his mouth before throwing a confused look at the larger mech. “You should worry about things aside from getting nosy in other bot’s business.” He berated. 

“Oh please,” The General scoffed, “There is no need to be sensitive about it. I was merely trying to get an advantageous situation through your thick processor.” He spit out, all of his characteristic venom laced into each word.

“Watch your tongue, _Seeker_.” The purple mech growled, letting the word slip past his lip components as if it were the vilest of soured energon. 

Starscream definitely noticed and sneered in response, “I may say the same to you, Lieutenant.” Feeling drained, the Decepticon General stepped towards the door, only pausing when he opened the hydraulic releases. He placed an angular servo on the doorframe and looked back at his glaring companion, “He said _you are the only one for him_ ; a term of great endearment from his area of origin on Cybertron. I was not trying to fool you, I was only speaking truth.” With that he left, leaving the doors open behind him.

Lugnut sighed hard and kneaded at his temples; he had been so sure Starscream was spewing slag, he was not ready to let what the Seeker said sink in.

_._ 

“ **Out of the way!** ” Ramjet and Slipstream were very-nearly knocked onto their afts when Hook and Scrapper came barreling down the main hall of the medical wing, a plethora of strange-looking objects held tightly, mostly by Scrapper as Hook ran ahead with nothing but a well-marked container. 

Slipstream cursed under her breathe and turned to her trine mate, noting the confused look in his optics. “Return to your room Ramjet, I would hope by now you can re-connect your nano-morphinite drip by yourself?” She pondered, nudging the white Seeker back into his room and being as docile as possible. “I fear something is wrong with Colonel Blitzwing, I will return to help with you rehabilitation soon enough.” With that Slipstream hurried down the hallway, quite proud of her own recovery from the previous week’s incident. 

Her chassis ached and her arm-joints still had not healed fully, but it was all bearable and easily shoved aside in place of a natural curiosity as to the happenings down the hallway.

“Scrapper; sterilize three needles and rinse out the size 5 syringe, pull up his schematics and current status, then attach a new energon transfusion line to his processor.” Hook ordered hurriedly as he himself began to rearrange Blitzwing on his berth. 

Blitzwing groaned with each forced movement and twitched involuntarily as his systems shuddered violently, the pain rippling through his damaged chassis. He was only semi-conscious and only vaguely registered his surroundings; though the spinning lights and distorted sounds were a huge burden upon his straining processes. “ _Was…was machst du?_ ” He asked wearily through the haze, vaguely noting the bright yellow and greenish figures moving around him.

Scrapper stopped for a moment, carefully resting the back of his servo against the Triple Changer’s forehelm, a small sound of disapproving aggravation slippe from his vocalizer. “You’re gonna be okay Colonel, the doc’ and I’ll take good care of ya’.” The assistant medic comforted as he injected a mixture of painkillers and antibiotics into Blitzwing’s arm. 

The Triple Changer did not risk moving as he felt the medicine ease his suffering and bring a comforting numbness to his whole body, including his head, which was glazed over in a more positive light than before. It was not exactly pleasant for him, but it was considerably better than before; that is until a paroxysm of tingling agitation engulfed his chest. The tingling sensation morphed quickly into a throbbing pain that grasped at his spark chamber and back struts like a rabid turbo-hound clawing at the door. The darkness brought his processor and body into total disarray before Blitzwing could even wonder what was going on.

**Author's Note:**

> Took me around a month of gradual work to write the first half of this, so if any of you are inclined to care about the next half, I would not hold your breathe. But no worried it shall update, I refuse to leave this unfinished.
> 
> I love to hear what the readers think so constructive criticism is always welcome, I swear I do not bite!


End file.
